The Castle (closed)

[Fronk]

t was a dark, starless night. Then again, no darker than some I guess. Fronk
found himself deep in the woods. Deeper than he had ever traveled in them
before. From the way the moss was growing thick on the old Elms, perhaps no one
had ever came this deep into these woods. The air was still all around, but the
night was rich with noise.

Ahead were several huge old Oaks. Hundreds of years old to say the least.
Standing at the base of one and looking up saw nothing but the massive sentinel
blurring into the dark sky. The wonders these silent guards of the woods must
have seen in their lifetime. Then again, perhaps it had been a quiet undisturbed
existence.

Fronk walked what seemed like a half mile, but was closer to tweny yards to get
around one of the massive trees. Someone would have to planted these massive
giants long ago, for once you were close to one, it was obvious they were in a
straight line. Someone had been this deep before, but how long had it been?

As he got around the imposing mass of the trunk, Fronk found he was in a
clearing. He looked up and although the sky was as dark as a magician's cloak,
he could tell there was no obstructions. In front of him stood the looming shape
of a castle. A forgotten home? A hidden meeting place? He stopped, stood still
and let his senses reach forth from where he stood. He did not sense and humans
at least. If there were no humans, then there were no hunters either. Not unless
they learned some new tricks lately.

The group he had ran across just a couple miles back had no idea of these tricks
if there were any. It was a small band of humans. One had the potential to
become a human some day. Well, perhaps not now, Fronk snickered to himself. It
was a band of five humans. Maybe the word group was more descriptive than band.
The young man with the possible hunter future had been about 17 years old. His
face was still covered with fuzz as apposed to a beard. He did stand tall
though. He was probably only six inches than Fronk's own 6' 9'' frame. He had
wide shoulders and a narrow waist. Dressed fully in buckskin, he carried quite
an imposing blade. Unfortunately for him, he was a little slow on drawing it
again. He would not get a chance to practice again. Even in certain death, he
stood tall and firm. Maybe Fronk should have turned him instead, but it was a
little too late to be making that decision now.

Fronk even had the luck of a . . . delectable treat from the group. The only
female in the bunch had been a virgin. He found this happening a lot less within
the humans these days. In the old days there was always a virgin or two in the
group. But I digress. There was also a rather large lad in the group too. Not
large as in tall, but easily would have weighed twice what Fronk did. He was
going to have to lay off the wider humans, a little too greasy for his liking.
Just because a Twinkie had a shelf life of seventy years, didn't mean it held
its taste that long. Once digested, they turned to pure grease. The fourth
member had been a slight lad of around fifteen and more of a snack than a meal.

As Fronk had been thinking back on the events he had been drawn forward towards
the castle as if it had a will of its own. It was apparently a grand place at
one time. It was pentagonal in shape as apposed to square. The blocks were
still true to line and they were not little. It must have taken quite a feat to
get them this deep into the woods.

Fronk placed a hand on the castle wall. It was cool to the touch, but it
surprised him how there was no moisture or moss to the touch. No vines, no
growth at all. Just clean smooth stone. It also felt as though it excluded its
own character and personality. It also felt, well, for lack of better
terminology, it felt lonesome. Was it possible for a building to be lonely?
Perhaps it was a charmed place. The outer walls stood a good fifty feet tall.
Along the base of one side, Fronk paced off fifty paces. A good size indeed. But
Fronk just couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness. There was no sense of dread
or malice, just loneliness.

Fronk finally came to the lone entrance into the place. It was on the face that
pointed due south. Standing at the entrance, he felt welcomed. The wonderment
was that once inside, was the feeling of loneliness one that would embrace or
encage?

Regardless, dawn would be approaching soon, and Fronk would need shelter.

[Fronk]

Fronk turned towards the oversized solid oak doors. The wood ran vertically and the wide timbers were banded together by eight inch wide steel bands. The bands were as dark as coal, but they were smooth to the touch. They still felt new, like the stone blocks of the walls. The Oak was obviously aged though. They were rough, the grain standing out prominently. The doors had an uneven split in them. Instead of meeting in the middle as most doors do, it was more of a 75/25 split. The narrower side was easily wide enough to allow an individual to pass through. Even an individual as big in girth as Fronk was. The colossal door stood easily twelve feet tall at the top of the arch.

Something seemed out of sorts though along this wall. Fronk took a couple steps back and surveyed the wall. It stood fifty feet tall like the others. It looked no longer or shorter than the other four. Something was different though. He noticed that the stone blocks on this wall were smooth like the others too. Why was there no growth on these walls? Was it from the, for lack of an better term that he could think of, personality the flowed forth from them? He looked up, then to his left and to his right. Then it came to mind. This wall had no windows. Why would anyone build a wall with a door and no windows to see who is standing at your door. Then again, come to think of it, there wasn’t a road that opened into the clearing either. Perhaps there was one in the past. Think of the coaches that pulled up to this doorway. Think of the people those coaches carried. Lords and Ladies, Dukes and Duchesses. Cocking his head to the side, Fronk wondered if perhaps, it was the opposite. Maybe that was why there was no windows. To keep others from looking in, and to keep what was inside, exactly where it was. Maybe there never was a road to this castle. Maybe there were no visitors, no parties, no galas?

Fronk looked around at the growth surrounding the castle. He was looking for a spot where the trees seemed younger than the rest. Maybe a place where there were more bushes than trees. In short, a place that may have once been a road or lane that lead to this magnificent place. This castle was out in the middle of nowhere. Was it just secluded or was it hidden away. As Fronk looked around he noticed that the sky was getting lighter. The reasoning for the existence of this place would have to be explored later. He needed to get inside and find some shelter out of the sun before it arose.

Walking back to the door, Fronk noticed something else as well. There was not a handle or a knocker beset upon the door anywhere. Maybe there once was, but he doubted it. There were no holes or signs of anything missing. So, now a new problem. How to get inside? One could always scale the wall or just jump it. He was a vampire after all. He didn’t wish to just knock a hole in the wall. There was still that feeling of welcome, but still a lingering thought of not knowing whether it had ever released it’s one time occupants. How ever he was getting in, it would have to be soon. Then without even thinking about it, he did the last thing anyone would have thought of. Fronk walked up and simply knocked on the door using one of his immense fists.

Just as soon as he wondered why in the hell he had knocked, the smaller door opened slowly. First just a few inches as if someone would peer out, then it swung open fully. “Please, come in sir” It wasn’t spoken. It wasn’t even telepathy. He just, felt it. It felt sincere. Then again, wasn’t Bella Lugosi always sincere when welcoming victims into his lair? Fronk was big enough to take care of himself and he had not sensed any other presences than himself. There was darkness behind the door and that was all that mattered at the time. The castle had welcomed him and Fronk felt adventurous enough to see what waited on the inside for him. Standing tall, Fronk walked in through the door.

The door closed just as slowly. There was no creaking, no moaning, no rusted hinges. The castle appeared as the day it was first finished. The way the woods looked around it though, it had been perhaps even centuries since it had been built. It didn’t just fly in and land. Fronk noticed the lack of sound in the door closing. It closed effortlessly and slowly. There was a solid thunk as it aligned with the wider door. However, there was no sound of a latch or lock. Fronk knew it wasn’t going to open back up though and didn’t even try it.

Fronk’s eyes grew accustomed to the darkness immediately. One of the perks of being a vampyre. He found himself in a vast room. Again, no windows. No light at all. He noticed a sort of trap door in each of the corners of the ceiling. The ceiling itself was approximately fifteen feet above where he stood. Each trap door was he guessed, four feet square. Under each trap door, was a spiral staircase leading up to it. The iron work of the steps and railing was quite exquisite. A lot of work had gone into the creation of these four staircases. Directly across the broad room from where he stood was an equally impressive door as the one he has just entered through. This door, instead of having an arch at the top, had a flat top and opened in the center. It had the same banding as the main entrance and appeared to be made of the same wood. This door was a not as colossal as the first door. It was about ten feet wide and eight feet tall. The room in which he stood, ran twenty feet from the front door to the back door. Looking side to side, he would guess it at fifty feet wide. Perhaps this was a covered spot to park carriages and such. A rather large garage if you would. No other doors or openings.

What lay above? Did each trap door open to a different room or area or to the same roof of this room? What was on the other side of the other door? With the sun coming up, it would be time to explore later. Fronk needed some rest. He walked halfway along the wall. He did not wish to rest near a door nor under one of the trap doors. As he walked, he noticed the smoothness of the floor. It was earthen, yet it had the feel of a well maintained floor. Again Fronk let his senses spread forth. Again he did not sense the presence of any others. Again, he felt that welcoming feeling as if from the castle itself. Was it possible for a building to have feelings or personality? Everyone had used those expressions, but was it really possible?

After moving about fifteen feet away from the door, Fronk sat. He sat on the floor with his back against the wall. The stone felt just as smooth on the inside as it did the outside. “Rest well friend” Fronk opened his eyes. It was not spoken, but like the welcome it was just felt. Fronk felt safe. He felt welcomed, not trapped. Then again, he was only in the first room. He closed his eyes and he rested. When he woke, he would explore the castle further.

[Fronk]

Fronk had slept the sleep of the dead or was that the undead. He had not had a rest as strong as that in some time. He smiled a broad smile. He had not felt so content since. . . When was the last time he had felt this content? When was the last time he felt this safe? He kept his eyes closed and thought back. Yes. The last time he had truly felt this safe was a while back. A long while back. He remembered the day well.

He was still a human in that life time. It was the week before the attack on his father’s kingdom. In his human existence, Fronk was a prince and he pretty much led the life of a prince as those written about in books. His father was well liked, perhaps even adored by his people. His mother, the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, except for one. He had not thought of her in a long time. It still would cause pain to his lips to even speak her name.

His father and himself had been out on a hunting trip. Fronk had shot a trophy boar and a trophy deer with his bow and arrow. It was by far the best hunting trip that he had had yet. He was sitting by the fire that night, still a good two days from home. He had let his thoughts carry to the past few days. He remembered the adrenaline rush as the boar rushed at him. It was the biggest darkest boar he had ever seen. The spread of the tusk as the reached upwards and outwards a good two and a half to three feet. Not yet. It was a grand recurve bow. A strong and powerful bow. Besides Fronk, there was only one within the entire kingdom that could string it. His father had given him that bow the day he turned sixteen. As hard as he tried, he could not actually string it. He had tried for six months. Every day, several times a day. It could be done, he had seen his father string it many times. He had finally stopped trying and hung it on the mantle.

Not yet. The boar was still too far away. At this range the arrow could still be deflected. His father had awoken him early on his eighteenth birthday. He didn’t say a word, just beckoned for Fronk to follow him. Fronk followed him into the trophy room. His father’s greatest trophies were kept in this room. Fronk dreamt of the days he could hang a trophy in this room. He had played it over and over in his mind.

Not yet. Fronk could seethe spittle hanging from the great boar’s mouth. Not yet. Fronk’s father stopped in front of the mantle, turned and put his hands on Fronk’s broad shoulders. “Son, Today is the day! Today you are a man!” Fronk just looked at his father not understanding at first. When his father turned his eyes to the mantle, it was if an invisible curtain had been lifted. It was as if a new power surged through him. Fronk looked at his father and then at the grand bow and then back at his father. The great king smiled and nodded at his son. Fronk reached above the green stoned mantle and took down the bow. His father handed him the sinew string. With the king, his father, smiling, Fronk strung the bow. Effortlessly.

Now! Fronk could see the very soul of the beast inside of its wild eyes. Fronk let loose the arrow and it flew true. It struck the boar square in its muscular chest. The beast let out one last breath and collapsed, sliding to a halt at Fronk’s feet. Yes, it was a kill worth reliving. Fronk heard his name being shouted by his father. Looking up from the fire, he saw an arrow fly by within inches of his left eye. Then he heard it hit something solid behind him. As if in slow motion, Fronk turned in time to feel the weight of the black panther slam into his lap. That frozen moment in time. That particular second. That was the safest he had ever felt.

There was one other time. A time after he had been turned. Fronk was surprised out in the woods by a hunter. That in itself was a different story. Fronk had made it back to town. He had made it to a pub that his sire had part ownership in. Once there he had tried to take out a couple of wanna be bikers. He had killed them, drained their blood, but he had lost too much of his own. He blacked out. He had come back to his senses in an office. Tshaya was there. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he stood between her and some blood covered guy. He knew though, that frozen second in time, with Tshaya, his sire, with him he was safe. He knew he would always be safe with her.

Right then, in that frozen second in time, he felt safe again. He slowly opened his eyes. He was back in the castle. His memories giving way to the here and now. He was back in the massive room that he had finally sat back and rested. From the far corner, just to the side of the spiral staircase, he noticed a faint green glow. It wasn’t bright enough to hurt his eyes, but it did illuminate the room. It wasn’t there when he closed his eyes. Why was it there now? Once more he let his senses reach out. Nothing in the castle, he couldn’t sense nothing in the surrounding woods. He stood and walked towards the strange green light. What other surprises awaited him here?